


Wonderwall

by UmbreonGurl



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Alternate Universe - K/DA (League of Legends), Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, in which your first words aren't always that romantic but stuff works out anyways, mostly kahri focused but akalynn is heavily implied, no beta we die like your inting teammates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:42:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29084832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UmbreonGurl/pseuds/UmbreonGurl
Summary: The first time Ahri notices the words on her hip, she can’t read them. As it turns out, finding your soulmate is pretty difficult when the language they speak hasn’t been invented yet.
Relationships: Ahri/Kai'Sa (League of Legends)
Comments: 35
Kudos: 223





	Wonderwall

**Author's Note:**

> Anyways here's Wonderwall lol

The first time Ahri notices the words on her hip, she can’t read them.

The handwriting is loopy, neat, and surprisingly clean—but the sentence it makes up (and for that matter, the language it’s written in) is something Ahri doesn’t know. It’s nothing like she’s ever seen before, so different from the scrolls that hang on the walls above the firepit.

She asks Mother and Father what it says, but they don’t seem to know either, glancing at each other with concerned frowns and whispers. Ahri can’t make out most of it, but one word stands out, repeated several times: _human._ It’s not a word Ahri’s ever heard before, so—as any curious little girl would—she asks what that means, too. 

Her question is quickly brushed aside and she is sent off to play with her cousins with a pat on the head and an affectionate “another time, child.”

Ahri asks them again and again, day after day, and still the answer is the same— _we’ll tell you later._

Eventually, she shifts to asking her cousins instead. They laugh at her at first, before one of them—one of the oldest ones—pulls her aside and eventually explains.

“Ahri,” he says, “your soulmate isn’t one of us.”

Ahri tilts her head, curious. “So? Why’s that matter? If they’re from a different tribe, we could still make things work, right?”

He shakes his head. “Ahri, your soulmate is a _human_. They aren’t like us. They die in a few decades, they speak in different tongues than we do—they’re greedy and filthy and gross.” He gives her a pitying look. “The reason your parents won’t tell you what your soulmark says is because they _can’t._ That’s a human language, and not one I’ve ever seen before.”

Ahri frowns, and the fur on her tail bristles in irritation. “Then why didn’t they tell me that? I’m not stupid. If I’m old enough to hunt, I should be old enough to know about my own soulmate.”

He lets out a small chuckle. “It’s not that they think you’re stupid, Ahri.” He sighs. “But humans are dangerous—unpredictable. Your parents want to protect you—even if you’re old enough to hunt, you’re still their child.”

“That’s dumb.” Ahri crosses her arms with a huff. “I’m a big girl, I don’t need protecting.”

“Big girl?” Her cousin raises an eyebrow. “Ahri, you’re barely over fifty cycles.”

“And that’s more than old enough to make my own decisions,” she grumbles. “I’m not a baby.”

“You’re not a baby,” he agrees, with a small shake of his head, “but you’re still young. Humans are dangerous, Ahri, it’s best you leave things be.”

“If they die in a few decades, I hardly see how they’re dangerous.” 

At that, his expression goes distant, haunted, hollow. “You’ll learn, in time.” He nudges her forward before making his way out in front of her with a small wave to follow. “Come. We’ve wasted enough time chatting, we have a hunt to commence.”

“Yes, Cousin,” Ahri agrees, but still, something about it just doesn’t sit right. Soulmates are supposed to be amazing, wonderful things, your one true love set up by the will of the universe itself. If humans are truly so awful, then why is she paired with one? 

* * *

The first thing Kai’Sa does when she notices what looks like handwriting on the back of her shoulder is to grab her father. She can’t read it on her own yet—she knows her abc’s, but words are still a bit difficult. (And even if she could, it’s hard to get a good look at it in the mirror.) 

“What’s it say, dad?” she asks, glancing back, impatient. “C’mon, tell me!”

Kassadin brushes his hand along the words as he reads, pausing at a few of them before continuing. “It says… “You’re amazing and I love you.” Your soulmate seems nice, sweetheart.”

“Oh, that’s real nice of them to say.” Kai’Sa grins, before pausing to think. “Do you think I’ll meet them at school today?”

“You could, some people meet their soulmates rather early on,” he says, with a chuckle. When Kai’Sa gets visibly excited at the idea, he continues. “I wouldn’t count on it, though. I didn’t meet your mother until well after I was done with school, and it’s not uncommon to have to wait a while.”

It takes all his self control not to laugh as Kai’Sa visibly deflates. 

“I don’t _wanna_ wait, though,” she grumbles.

“I know, honey.” He ruffles her hair affectionately. “Nobody does, but the world’s got a plan for all of us. You’ll meet your soulmate when the time is right, when both of you are ready for it.”

“And when’s that?” Kai’Sa pouts. “Tomorrow?”

Kassadin shakes his head. “It could be. I can’t tell you for sure.”

At that, Kai’Sa grows more frustrated. “Why not? You can do anything, dad.”

“Unfortunately, your dear old dad can’t do _everything._ ” Kassadin reaches under Kai’Sa’s armpits and lifts her up, placing her on his shoulders. “I can do a lot of things, though, and this morning, I’m going to drive you to school.”

Kai’Sa squirms a bit in excitement. “Mrs. Brown said we were gonna fingerpaint today,” she says, as Dad starts to make his way towards the garage. She grabs at his hair lightly as he moves. “I wanna make a butterfly.”

“Fingerpainting? That sounds exciting.” Kassadin says. “I’m sure your butterfly is going to be very pretty, kiddo.”

Kai’Sa nods. “I hope so. I like fingerpainting a lot.”

“I know it’ll be gorgeous, sweetheart. I love your art.” His tone is sure and confident, leaving no room for argument. “When you get to take it home, we can pin it up on the fridge.”

“Really? Next to the horse?” 

“Of course,” Kassadin agrees. “There’s no better place for it than next to the horse. Should we put it next to the dog too?”

“Yes!” Kai’Sa chirps, and she pulls just a tad too hard on his hair to be comfortable. “Yes, yes, next to the doggie!”

He reaches a hand up to gently grab at her wrist. “Easy there, tiger, gentle on the hair. You don’t wanna make your old man go bald, do you?”

“No!”

Kai’Sa lets go of her father’s hair as if she’d been burned, and it’s only due to quick reflexes and quicker action on Kassadin’s part that she doesn’t fall off. Arms gently lift her up and place her back onto the floor, and Kai’Sa’s hand finds its way into his. 

He smiles fondly. “C’mon. Let’s get you buckled up and off to school. We wouldn’t want to miss fingerpainting day, and I can’t be late to work.”

* * *

The tribe moves often—they never leave the forest, but it’s more than big enough to travel for a good day or two and still not even hit the outskirts. Ahri’s never told a reason for it, but she knows that there has to be one for them to be constantly picking up and moving seemingly out of nowhere. It wouldn’t make sense otherwise—it’s not an easy process, packing everything up and leaving.

Most of the time, she’s at least given a few days' warning—a few days to say goodbye to her favorite haunts and hiding spots, a few days to pack up her things, a few days to prep for the journey.

This time, something’s different. Mother is frantic when she shakes her awake, hissing and fur bristling.

“Get up,” she says— _orders,_ “we must go. Now.”

“Huh?” Drowsily, Ahri gets up. “Why?”

“No time for questions. Grab your emergency travel bag.” The urgency in Mother’s voice is worrying, but Ahri listens, getting to her feet and making her way over to the little corner where their emergency supplies are stored.

Father makes his way in with laboured breath and a frantic look upon his face. “We’re too late—they’re already almost here.”

Mother curses under her breath, before turning towards Ahri and placing her hands on her shoulders. “Listen to me very closely. Take your things and follow the river north until you find a cabin. It should be made of dark wood—you’ll know it when you see it. Knock at the door exactly three times, and when asked who’s there, you are to say “The forest collects its debts.” Am I clear?”

When Ahri doesn’t respond, Mother shakes her slightly. 

“Am I _clear,_ Ahri?” she reiterates, gaze piercing.

“Yes, Mother,” Ahri forces out. She can make out the smell of smoke and iron.

Mother nods, and Ahri swears she sees a few tears before she’s shoved towards the back. “Take the back exit and go. Don’t look back. We’ll follow after you.”

Ahri hesitates, tightening her grip on her satchel and glancing towards Father. This isn’t right. Nothing about this is right.

“Ahri, _go_ ,” he yells, and with a harsh shove from Mother, Ahri is off and running, feet moving without even thinking about it. 

By the time she reaches the river, a trail of smoke can be seen in the sky, thick and dark, blocking out the stars above. 

When she makes it to the cabin, the sun has long since risen and her feet ache. She’s pretty sure that Mother and Father aren’t following, either. 

She knocks at the door exactly three times. It does not open, but Ahri can hear footsteps approach from behind it. A woman’s voice answers the call, but not in any language Ahri is familiar with. At this point, all she can do is pray this is the right place and answer as she was told to.

“The forest collects its debts,” Ahri says, and her voice is hoarse.

The door opens, and a hooded figure appears from behind it before looking Ahri up and down. It doesn’t take long for the woman underneath the cloak to give her a pitying look.

“Come in,” she says, opening the door wider and stepping to the side. Her accent is strange, but the words are clear enough. “And be quick about it, kid. We wouldn’t want you to be seen.”

Ahri doesn’t have to be told twice.

* * *

When Kai’Sa learns to read, the first thing she does is try to read her soulmark. She already knows what it says, of course—Dad’s read it to her many times before. Even still, there’s just something about seeing it— _reading_ it—with your own two eyes.

It takes a handheld mirror, the mirror in the bathroom, and a stepstool to manage to get a good look at it, but when she does, she’s surprised by the results.

She takes a moment to sound out the words.

“You’re kind of a…” she stops for a moment to think through the next words. “Hug… no—huge! Yes, that’s it, huge. You’re kind of a huge… bitch?”

Huh. That’s not a word Kai’Sa’s familiar with. Kai’Sa takes a moment to think it through before making her way through the rest of it. “You’re kind of a huge bitch… for mack—making me wait this long,” she reads, and pauses for a moment. 

That can’t be right. That’s not what Dad had always told her it said.

She reads it out loud again, taking her time to sound out the syllables, and still, the words on her skin do not spell out “You’re amazing and I love you.” Kai’Sa tries it one more time, and she finds herself coming up with the same result as before.

Kai’Sa doesn’t know what a bitch is, but that’s not really the part she’s worried about—it’s the waiting part that’s concerning. 

She knows, realistically, that she probably won’t meet her soulmate anytime soon. She’s young—and most people don’t meet theirs until well into adulthood. 

Still, some part of her had always hoped hers would be different—but judging by the message written on her shoulder, it isn’t. She’ll have to wait just like everyone else, and so will her soulmate. (At the very least, she won’t be suffering alone. That helps a little bit.)

When Dad gets home from work that night, she greets him with a hug as usual.

“Heya, kiddo,” he says, “how was your day?”

“Good,” says Kai’Sa, pressing her face against his pant leg. “We got new books for independent reading time.”

He chuckles. “Oh? And which one did you choose?”

“Don’t remember the name,” Kai’Sa shakes her head, “but it had a cat in it.” 

“A cat? That sounds nice. You like cats a lot.” Shrugging his coat off and hanging it up, Kassadin gently pries Kai’Sa’s arms off of him.

“C’mon, I’ll make us some dinner,” he says, as he makes his way into the kitchen.

Kai’Sa follows.

“Hey, dad?” she asks. 

“Hm?” He pauses briefly from rummaging through the pantry.

“What’s “bitch” mean?” 

He freezes, almost dropping the box of pasta in his hands. “Where did you hear that word, sweetie?”

“I read it on my shoulder,” Kai’Sa declares, matter of factly, almost proudly. “My soulmate’s gonna call me a huge bitch.”

Kassadin sighs, setting the box of pasta on the counter and kneeling down to place a hand on her shoulder. He had known it was inevitable she’d find out what her soulmark says, but he had hoped he’d have more time. 

“It’s not a nice word, Kai’Sa. You shouldn’t go around saying it.”

Kai’Sa frowns. “Then why is my soulmate gonna call me a bitch? That’s pretty mean, isn’t it?”

He chuckles. “Most people’s first words aren’t very romantic. I think your soulmate must have just been impatient—it doesn’t mean they’re mean.”

“Oh,” Kai’Sa says. “Okay.” Upon seeing the box of pasta on the counter, she perks up immediately, the words on her shoulder seemingly forgotten. “Are we gonna have mac n’ cheese?”

“Yup,” Kassadin confirms. “It’ll be ready in about twenty minutes.”

The little wiggle Kai’Sa does in place at that answer makes it all worth it, he finds. 

* * *

The woman is vastayan. It’s something Ahri can easily tell as soon as she pulls her hood down and a pair of catlike ears make themselves visible. Her nails are also slightly too long and far too sharp, but the ears by themselves are a dead giveaway.

“You weren’t the one I expected to cash in this favor, kid,” she says, as she gestures to a chair in front of the fireplace. “Come take a seat and we can talk. You want tea?”

“Tea?” Ahri asks, confused. 

The woman shakes her head. “Right. I forgot you guys don’t drink tea. Oh well. Water, then? Something to eat?”

“Yes,” Ahri says, making her way over and taking a seat. “Um. Both, please.”

“Alright then. Both it is.” The woman starts to make her way into another room, before she pauses. “You’re obviously not Ayra, so what’s your name, sweetheart?” 

“Ahri,” she answers. “Ayra’s my mother.”

“Ahri, okay.” The woman nods, taking in the words with a small frown. “Well, Ahri, I’m Dahlia. I’m gonna go grab us a snack, okay?”

“Okay.”

With that, Dahlia disappears into another room, and Ahri finds herself alone. She watches the crackle of the flames in the hearth, hypnotized, until Dahlia makes her way back with some bread and some water.

Ahri takes it gratefully, tearing into the bread and all but chugging the water. She hadn’t realized how thirsty she was, she finishes it off with a small gasp for breath.

“Good?” Dahlia asks, raising an eyebrow, amused, having taken a seat across from Ahri.

“Yes.” Ahri sets the glass down and picks up a few last crumbs of the bread with her fingers. “Thank you.”

“So, kid, what brings you all the way to my humble abode?” 

Ahri fiddles with her hands. “There was smoke—a lot of smoke, and Mother told me to follow the river north to a cabin. She told me that she and Father would follow after me, and how to knock on the door and what to answer with.”

“I see.” Dahlia sighs, and it’s clear she reads something in Ahri’s words that Ahri herself does not know. “You know, I owed your mother a life-debt.”

“A life-debt?” Ahri asks.

“Yes.” Dahlia nods. “She saved my life a while back. I made her a promise—and gave her a way to cash it in. I think you’re gonna be staying with me for a while, kiddo.”

Ahri frowns. “Mother will probably want us to move when she gets here. She doesn’t like staying in one place for too long.”

And there’s that look again—pity. It makes Ahri’s stomach twist.

“I’m sure she will,” Dahlia agrees, but her tone isn’t entirely sincere. “Until then, you stay here, okay?”

“Okay,” Ahri agrees.

Dahlia watches with knowing eyes. “Are you still hungry?”

Ahri nods.

“I’ll start on dinner a little early, then.” Dahlia gets up from her chair. “Have you ever had beef before, Ahri?”

“No,” Ahri says.

Dahlia chuckles. “Figures. You probably didn’t have any cows all the way out there in the woods. I’ve got some beef jerky—it’s dried meat. I think you’ll like it.”

At the mention of meat, Ahri perks up slightly. “I like meat.”

“I’m sure you do.” Dahlia sends a glance towards her ears and her tail, but otherwise doesn’t say anything more.

Mother and Father never do show up.

* * *

They move for the first time when Kai’Sa is eight, and she’s not exactly thrilled about it. She likes her teacher, she likes her friends, she likes the park five minutes away from school with the creek—her favorite one with all the frogs. All of a sudden, she has to say goodbye to all of them and move to another school in another place. It’s frustrating.

She’d been told about it a few months ago, yes, but she’d wanted to pretend that Dad had lied about it just like he did with her soulmark. Unfortunately, on most everything, he isn’t a liar, and moving day arrives with trucks in their driveway and boxes piled on the front porch.

Her room looks so empty, so foreign, without all her plushies and her books and her desk. She had pulled a book aside for the car ride, something about fairies and monster folk who live in the woods, and she clutches it tight to her chest as she waits.

Dad makes his way up the stairs, and Kai’Sa doesn’t notice his presence until a hand finds its way onto her shoulder.

“You almost ready to go, kiddo?” he asks. He glances around the room for a brief moment, as if checking to see if they’d forgotten anything. “They’re almost done packing stuff up, so if you’re good to go, you can go hop in the car.”

“I don’t wanna go,” Kai’Sa says, squeezing her book a little tighter. “I like it here.”

“I know, sweetheart.” Kassadin sighs, and he makes his way in front of Kai’Sa and squats down until they’re at eye-level. “But we have to. My company transferred me, and I can’t say no without risking my job. Without that, I can’t keep a roof over our heads, or make us dinner, or get you new toys.”

“I know,” Kai’Sa says, with a small pout. He had already told her this several times. She knows they have to go, that doesn’t make it any easier. “I just… I’m gonna miss home, Dad.”

“We’ll make a new home,” he replies, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You and me. I’m sure there will be some great new creeks for you to explore, and you can make some new friends, and your new school is one of the best in the area. You’re gonna love it.”

Kai’Sa grumbles something unintelligible in response.

Kassadin runs his hand up and down Kai’Sa’s arm comfortingly. “I know it’s hard, but I promise everything is gonna be okay.” He sighs. “Tell you what—I was planning to save this until we were already on the road for a while, but there’s a few small chocolate bars in the front pocket of my bag.”

Kai’Sa pauses. “But you don’t let me have candy in the morning.”

“Most days, that’s true.” He chuckles. “Today’s a big day. I think we can make an exception. But you can only have one—the rest are for later, okay?”

“Okay.”

He gets up. “C’mon, kiddo, let’s go get you some candy and get you settled.”

* * *

Dahlia believes very firmly in learning by doing. It’s something Ahri finds out quickly when she’s dragged into helping with the daily chores and Dahlia barks orders in that strange other tongue.

Ahri is a quick learner—it doesn’t take much time for her to pick up important words, and before long she’s stringing together simple sentences. Even still, though, the meaning of the words on her hip remains elusive. Dahlia knows many languages—but whatever Ahri’s soulmate speaks is not one of them.

She asks Dahlia about her soulmate once as they skin a deer, and she gets a laugh in response. “Don’t have one.”

Ahri frowns, pulling her hand away and licking it clean. “What do you mean? Everyone has one.”

Dahlia shakes her head, setting the pelt aside. “I used to. Not anymore.”

Ahri tilts her head. “What happened?”

Dahlia seemingly ignores the question. “Ahri, you said your parents didn’t want you to know your soulmate was a human?”

“My cousin said they were dangerous,” Ahri answers, as she divides the meat into pieces and sets the entrails aside.

She gets a small hum in response. “That’s partially the reason. But if your people were anything like my mother’s, it’s probably not just the humans they were worried about.” Pulling the collar of her tunic to the side, Dahlia reveals a large scar on her collarbone. “People like you and I can be just as cruel. My mother had a human as a soulmate. They called her a traitor. If not for quick thinking on her part, I wouldn’t be here today.”

It takes a few moments for Ahri to process the words. “Wait—you’re half human?”

Dahlia nods, letting her shirt fall back into place. “It comes with its advantages and disadvantages.” She shrugs. “I don’t need to feed off of life energy like you do, but I don’t really fit in to either world. The humans like the vastaya about as much as the vastaya like humans, in most cases. It’s why I live all the way out here. Alone.”

“Oh.” Ahri falls silent for a few moments, before curiosity gets the better of her. “If you’re all alone, then how’d you meet my mother?”

“I was chased into the forest, and she defended me from some rather unpleasant folks who had some issues with my heritage.” Dahlia shakes her head. “It surprised me, at the time. Usually vastaya hate half-breeds.” She turns to look Ahri right in the eyes. “But in hindsight, if she had known about your soulmate,” she shrugs. “I suppose she must have seen a bit of you in me, if I had to guess. Either that, or she saw me owing a favor as a worthwhile investment.”

There’s a brief moment of silence before Ahri speaks up again. “What’s an investment?” 

“Human term. Means that you do something in the hopes it’ll pay off in the long run.” 

“Oh,” Ahri says, with a small nod. “Like a favor?”

“Yes—well, not exactly, but yes,” Dahlia confirms, with a small chuckle. “It’s something like that.” 

* * *

They move three more times before Kai’Sa is ten, and she learns very quickly that it’s best not to get too attached to places.

Dad’s been tired recently. He still smiles and cooks and tries to act as if everything is fine when he gets home, but the dead look in his eyes makes it clear it’s not entirely the truth. Perhaps all the moving has been hard on him too—Kai’Sa doesn’t know.

Whenever she asks, he gives vague responses that offer more questions than answers. When he says it was a tough day at work, it reminds Kai’Sa that she doesn’t even know what he does—not really. She thinks he’s in finance (for sure it’s something business related, if not finance, maybe marketing?) but she doesn’t know the specifics.

She knows a lot of things about her dad. His mac and cheese recipe is one passed down by the grandmother Kai’Sa had never gotten to meet, his favorite food is salted caramel ice cream, and he likes lilies because they remind him of Mom. She knows a lot of things—but not what he does for a living. If Kai’Sa were to be perfectly honest, she suspects she may never know that one.

It’s fine, though—Dad would have told her if it was something important. Or maybe he’s some sort of superhero like in one of her comic books, keeping it a secret to protect her from the bad guys. That’d be cool. He could be a secret agent, too. Those guys can’t tell anyone what they do, and it’d certainly explain all the moving around.

“Kai’Sa, are you done with your worksheet?”

Kai’Sa is snapped out of her thoughts, startling and glancing up at her teacher.

“Yes,” she confirms. She had finished it a while ago, in truth, choosing to doodle along the margins instead of turning it in and grabbing a new one. “I just finished.” That’s a lie, but not one Mrs. Smith needs to know.

She gets a smile in response. “Go turn it in and I’ll get you a new one.”

“Okay.” It probably won’t take her a while to finish the next one, either. The problems they give her are laughably easy. She can go back to drawing more dogs after. “And after I finish that, what should I do?”

“If you brought a book with you, you can read for a bit until the other students are done with their work,” her teacher offers.

Kai’Sa smiles. Jackpot. She had brought the last book in her favorite fantasy series, a grand adventure about elves and dragons and a tribe of cat people from the Fabled Forest. She’s been very much looking forward to finding out what happened to Theoden—the last book had left him in the middle of the Canyon of Fire. 

Kai’Sa loves books. They’re an escape, a constant, something fun and interesting and—most importantly—something she can do by herself, without needing any friends.

“I brought a book with me,” Kai’Sa confirms, as a new worksheet is dropped off and she gets to work. “I’ll turn this in when I’m done.”

* * *

Dahlia ages far faster than Ahri does. It’s something Ahri hadn’t even thought about until she starts seeing little gray hairs peeking out from under tufts of brown, but the closer she looks, the more signs she notices.

Dahlia moves just slightly slower, her face has wrinkles that multiply every couple of decades, and she complains about joint pain every once in a while.

By no means is Dahlia anywhere near old, but still, something about the whole thing is unsettling to watch—it’s a new experience, and not one Ahri is really fond of.

She tries to ignore it; she really does—she likes things just the way they are. Dahlia can be kind of a cranky asshole, but it’s peaceful, hunting and cutting wood and occasionally taking a trip to the human markets under heavy cloaks and layers of glamour. That last one is always one of her favorite parts of it all—humans are _fascinating._

The sounds, the sights, the smells—Ahri could easily get lost in it all if not for the firm hand Dahlia keeps on her shoulder. It’s a stark reminder that she needs to be careful in her actions. One slip of her tongue, a strange accent in her words, or an accidental mistake in applying her glamour and everything could all come crumbling down in an instant.

It’s why, for the most part, Dahlia does most of the talking. She knows the human traditions, when and how to haggle, rituals of greeting, and—most importantly, her accent matches the locals. Ahri’s been working on hers, and she won’t lie, she’s gotten pretty good at it, but it’s still not perfect, and anything less than perfect is a risk.

Unfortunately, all of Ahri’s rational thought goes out the window when she catches sight of a faint glint of shiny purple at a stand selling various knickknacks and curios.

“Ahri, what the hell are you doing?” Dahlia hisses, as Ahri pulls out of her grasp and makes her way over to the stand.

Upon closer inspection, the object that had caught her attention is a bracelet, made of dark beads that shine in the sunlight. She picks it up and turns it over in her hands appraisingly.

“You’ve got a good eye,” says the merchant. “That right there is made of one hundred percent pure voidling chitin. It won’t ever break, shatter, or scratch.”

Dahlia makes her way over and gives Ahri’s arm a firm squeeze, before grabbing the bracelet out of her hands and setting it back down.

“I’m so sorry about my niece,” she says. “She should know better than to touch merchandise without asking.” The statement is accompanied by another firm squeeze, one which Ahri knows means they’ll be having a talk about this later.

The merchant laughs. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not like she can do any harm to it.”

“Still. She had no way of knowing that.” Dahlia huffs, and glances over towards Ahri briefly before sighing at the pleading expression Ahri has on her face. “How much is it?”

The man tells her the price, and Dahlia curses under her breath. Ahri knows enough about money to know it isn’t cheap. Still, she also knows she’s saved enough of the money Dahlia occasionally gives her for her share of the work to afford it. 

She nods slightly towards the bracelet, and Dahlia at first shakes her head, before Ahri gestures towards it again.

“Fine,” she says, before turning towards the merchant. “We’ll take it.”

Ahri wears the bracelet home.

* * *

They move countries a few times. The process is slightly different from previous moves, involving a lot longer travel time and having to leave more stuff behind in storage, but for the most part, it’s pretty similar.

The one big difference, Kai’Sa finds, is the language. She picks up a little of whatever is spoken wherever they go, and she’s good at it. The more languages she picks up—a few phrases here, some slang there, the easier it gets. (It does help quite a bit that the romance languages are quite similar.)

It’s cool, Kai’Sa thinks, all the different ways you can communicate with people. She finds, though, that her favorite way doesn’t involve words at all.

It’s something she discovers by chance on her way home from school when she spots a sign offering ballet lessons. She begs and begs, and finally, reluctantly, Dad lets her try—and man, is she glad he did.

She loves it. Dance is like learning a new language, one without words, spoken through movement and music and soul. The studio feels like home away from home, the wood softer under her feet than the grass at the park she’d used to frequent.

Dad is grumpy at first, as it’s not cheap—from the shoes, to the leotards, to the lessons themselves, it all adds up to quite a hefty price. Even despite this, he drives her to every recital without complaint, grabbing a front row seat with a bouquet full of roses draped in his arms and a video camera in hand.

Moving studios is far easier than moving schools—there’s no worries about jocks and nerds and who sits with who at the lunch table. Everyone is connected through motion, a universal language with bits and pieces always able to be taught. It’s still sad, yes, but each studio Kai’Sa finds herself at has its own specialties and things to offer. She moves from ballet to tap dancing, to hip hop to tango and back to ballet again. 

It’s a change in her normal routine, time spent roaming the woods and the creeks exchanged for hardwood floors and chugging gatorade when she’s out of breath, but still, at the end of every day, she finds herself drawn to dog-eared pages and warm blankets.

She’s probably read this series twenty times by now—god knows she can probably recite the first chapter by memory. But new ways to tell the story open so many doors—the slight differences in the translations are fascinating, and Kai’Sa can’t help but fall in love with the whole thing all over again.

The author, Audrey Vandlefoot, apparently did all the translations herself, and it shows in the way that each version of the story stays exactly the same and yet is also somehow entirely different at the same time. It’s a shame they quit writing, Kai’Sa would love to see more from them. In the meantime, she can give it another read through. 

After that, perhaps a trip to the local library is in order. She’ll have to ask dad about it later—he’d likely be willing to drive her after work.

* * *

Slowly, surely, Ahri takes over more and more of the housework, and as much as she would love to continue ignoring it, the fact remains that Dahlia isn’t getting any younger.

It’s something Dahlia’s just as aware of as Ahri is—Ahri’s noticed the pile of money she’s been stashing away for “later.” She’s been saying that for well over a hundred years, and still she hasn’t ever taken a single coin out of it.

By now, Ahri’s gotten good enough to make trips to the market on her own. The travel isn’t good for Dahlia’s back anyways, so there’s no reason for her to come anymore if she doesn’t need to.

She’d gotten some fresh fruit at the market today—it’s not always a common find considering how seasonal some of them are, but it’s always delicious and easy on the teeth. (The latter of which is extremely important for Dahlia’s food, nowadays. She always bitches if it’s too tough to chew.) When combined with some stewed meat, it makes a nice meal.

Dahlia lets out a small “thank you” as Ahri passes a bowl over. They fall silent as they eat. 

Dahlia finishes her portion with a loud sigh, before setting the bowl aside. “You should probably leave soon.” 

“Leave?” Ahri repeats, shocked. The idea is so out of nowhere she honestly doesn’t know how to process it.

Dahlia levels her with an unusually serious stare. “You’ve still got a soulmate to find, don’t you?”

“Well, yes, but—”

Dahlia cuts her off. “But what?” She snorts. “Kid, you don’t even know what language your soulmark’s in. You’re not gonna find that out staying here.” 

“But you need me here,” Ahri protests. 

“Do I?” Dahlia raises an eyebrow. “I’ve managed by myself just fine, Ahri—and I’m not gonna be here forever. You’re a big girl, it’s time for your life to stop revolving around me.”

 _But you’re all I have,_ Ahri wants to say.

“Trust me, it’ll be easier for you if you move on. No parent should have to bury their child, but no child should have to bury their parent, either.”

It’s almost as if Dahlia had read her mind. Ahri almost wants to argue that Dahlia’s not her mother, and while it’s true, she’s not—in every way that _matters_ , she might as well be. 

“But where would I go?” Ahri asks, quiet.

Dahlia leans forward, grabbing Ahri’s hand and giving it a small squeeze. It’s soft, and her hands are skinny, but the meaning behind the gesture is clear. “Wherever the world may take you. The universe has a plan for you, Ahri, and it never involved wasting away in this cabin with me.”

“It can wait,” Ahri protests, squeezing Dahlia’s hand back.

Dahlia shakes her head. “If you wait for the world to come to you, it never will. I’ve taught you everything you need. It’s long past time for you to go your own way—I should have had this talk with you far sooner, if I’m being honest.” She gives a small shrug. “But what can I say? I’m a selfish old hag. I like having the company.”

Ahri knows her well enough to know that once Dahlia makes up her mind on something, she won’t be changing it.

“I’m going to miss you,” she says, and her voice is quiet.

Dahlia smiles. “I’d be mad if you didn’t.”

* * *

Kai’Sa is thirteen when Dad sends her to boarding school. She wasn’t thrilled about it—still isn’t, if she’s being honest—but he had said he’d have to move a lot more frequently and it isn’t healthy for a kid to have to deal with that. 

The school he’d picked has a great dance program, which is a huge plus, but… Dad isn’t there. And that’s the part she has trouble adjusting to. There’s no greetings when she gets back to her dorm room after classes and practice, there’s no mac and cheese after a hard day (not the homemade kind, anyways—what the school makes just isn’t the same), and it’s just overall weird for him to not be around at all.

Sure, he hadn’t been home much recently, but he was still home occasionally, and that was enough. In a way, the _lack_ of moving is also jarring. It’s strange, now that she thinks about it, but she’d gotten so used to constantly seeing new faces and new places that staying in one place is an adjustment. 

It rubs in how lonely she is. Without Dad, she really doesn’t have anyone—she hadn’t stayed long enough in one place to make any real friends, and had given up trying. Truthfully, Kai’Sa had planned to keep her head down and nose in her books. Her roommate doesn’t make that an option. 

Kai’Sa wasn’t even supposed to have a roommate in the first place—Dad had booked her a single and she has never been one for sharing space. Unfortunately, bureaucracy isn’t known for its reliability, and one paperwork mix-up later, she’s paired with one Akali Jhomen Tethi for the foreseeable future. 

This is both good and bad.

It’s bad, in that Akali is loud, she stays up way too late, and she gets her shit _everywhere._ You can easily identify her side of the room by the trail of dirty socks and old sweaty gym clothes, the unmade wrinkly sheets, and the growing pile of crumpled up pieces of notebook paper that had missed the trash can. For someone who normally likes to keep their space nice and neat, it’s a nightmare. 

But it’s also good, because for the first time in a long time, Kai’Sa makes a real friend. Akali is everything Kai’Sa is not, but in a way, that’s what makes it work. There’s some sort of appeal to opposites, Kai’Sa thinks, and it doesn’t take much to get Akali hooked on her favorite book series—even despite her insistence she doesn’t read.

Akali teaches her how to play basketball, and even though Akali isn’t all that tall, she’s downright scary on the court. Kai’Sa helps her with her math homework, because even though she’s plenty capable, the way the teachers explain it just doesn’t _work_ for her.

Slowly, surely, Akali weaves her way into Kai’Sa’s life, and she finds herself missing Dad less. After-practice chats in the car are replaced by sitting on the bleachers and chatting as Akali practices her three-pointers. Mac and cheese nights are replaced by Doritos and a smuggled-in gameboy. It’s a new normal, and one Kai’Sa finds she could easily get used to. 

Kai’Sa stays at school over the holidays, and Dad sends a note apologizing for the fact there’s no place for her to come back to. Akali stays too—but Kai’Sa suspects it’s for very different reasons, as she tears up and throws away the letter with her name on it.

“Well. Looks like we’re stuck here together,” Akali says, with a smile. “I hope you know I don’t get any cleanlier when class isn’t in session.”

Kai’Sa shakes her head with a small chuckle. “I didn’t expect you to be.”

“Oi!” Akali frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Kai’Sa laughs. “Nothing.”

* * *

Ahri takes to wandering surprisingly well. There’s always new things to see and smell and learn, and honestly, she finds she enjoys the travel. The desert is so much different than the tundra, and the mountains so much different than the forest.

She picks up souvenirs as she goes—some pretty little geodes from a miner, a small wood-carved deer from a hunter who had been selling them among his meats and pelts, a purple silk handkerchief from a caravan amongst the sand dunes. The bracelet she had bought with Dahlia still rests comfortably on her wrist.

New languages and new traditions are picked up alongside the knickknacks, but none of them seem to match the words on her hip. That’s okay—it gives Ahri time to explore some hobbies.

She starts keeping a journal of her travels. She writes down things she doesn’t want to forget, sticking dried leaves and flowers and pigments between the pages. 

Her favorite thing, though, she discovers, are festivals.

The music, the bright colors and costumes, and how could she forget the food? It’s full of spices, the meat on offer always tender and flavorful, and there’s always no shortage of new things to try. This particular city by the river has seafood galore, as well as several goat dishes.

Ahri is halfway through some sort of fish skewer when she feels the tug of charm magic at her back. Rude.

Glancing around the crowd, her eyes meet with another woman’s, golden and catlike. 

Ahri glares. The woman stares back, unphased. Ahri loses sight of her in the shifting crowd, and she finishes her food, continuing her exploring until something wraps around her waist and pulls her into an alleyway.

The breath is pushed out of her lungs as a clawed hand pushes her against the wall. “It’s rude to trespass on someone else’s turf, _vastaya._ ” That last word is almost a hiss, low, angry, dangerous.

“I’m afraid I wasn’t aware I was,” Ahri hisses back, gold meeting gold, unafraid. “I was simply passing through.”

The arm on her ribcage pushes further inward. “You’ve stayed a bit too long to be simply passing through. I’m feeling generous today, though, so I’ll give you the chance to explain yourself. Otherwise—I could do with a new fur coat.” She pauses. “Or maybe even a rug, my floor could use some redecorating, now that I think about it.”

Ahri brings a hand up to grasp at the woman’s arm, but before she can, a tendril of smoke solidifies to wrap around her wrist, holding it in place. The woman smiles, and it’s all teeth. “I wouldn’t try that, if I were you. Wrong answer. I’ll give you one more chance.”

“I stayed for the festival,” Ahri explains. “I wanted to try all the food.”

The woman’s free hand comes up and makes its way around Ahri’s throat, grip tightening. “So you thought it a good idea to steal from me, is that it? Couldn’t resist all these pretty little humans gathered in one place?”

“No,” Ahri chokes out, confused. “It was for the fish. I don’t eat _people_.” She’s been tempted to try it a few times, she won’t lie. When she’s at her hungriest, anything with a pulse starts to seem appealing.

The hand around her throat tightens. “You don’t eat people,” the woman echoes, suspicious. “Do you think me a fool? Your kind thrives off of memories, life energy— _souls._ ”

“And there is more to life than humans,” Ahri snarks back, baring her teeth. “I am not some rabid dog without taste. I personally prefer cattle or deer.”

The woman frowns, inspecting Ahri’s face with narrowed eyes, as if searching for any sign of a lie. “You’re serious,” she says, eventually, with a disgusted curl of her lips. “How disappointing. I haven’t had any proper competition in ages. I was hoping for a challenge.”

The hand around Ahri’s throat slowly drops, and the pressure eases. The haze of smoke around her arm fades. “You have to be the stupidest creature I have ever seen.” She scoffs. “A soul eater who doesn’t eat souls. How quaint.”

“And who are you to criticize my behavior?” Ahri frowns, claws flexing. 

The woman gives Ahri a once over. “How old are you? Three hundred? Four? Maybe five? Did your mother never teach you about the delights of being a man-eater?” She cackles, low and heavy. “You poor, innocent thing. You probably still believe in soulmates, don’t you?”

“And so what if I do?” Ahri retorts.

The woman inspects her nails—which, Ahri notes, are sharp as her own are—before turning to leave the alley. “I’m feeling generous today, so I’ll let you in on a little secret—people like you and I don’t have souls.” She shrugs. “But I have better things to be doing than to explain the basics to a _child_. I’d suggest you get your fish and get out of town, before I change my mind on wanting a new rug.”

As she walks away, Ahri catches a glimpse of skin on the woman’s back, exposed by her dress. She can’t read the words found on it, but the symbols are ones she’d know anywhere—they’re plastered all over her hip.

“You have a soulmark too, you know,” Ahri calls. “Even if _people like us_ don’t have a soul—you’ve got a soulmate waiting for you somewhere out there.”

“Don’t make me laugh.” In a haze of smoke, the woman is gone, fading back into the crowd. 

Ahri leaves town the next morning.

* * *

Kai’Sa spends the holidays binging movie marathons with snacks from the nearby corner store. They’re about halfway through their third Hallmark movie of the day when Akali speaks up.

“So,” she asks, around a mouthful of chips. “What’s your soulmark say?”

Kai’Sa frowns, reaching for the remote to pause the movie. “You couldn’t wait until the end of the movie?”

Akali groans. “Kai’Sa, come on—the plot for these are all the same, and you’ve made me watch like three today. I’m bored, and we’ve been living together for months. I was gonna ask at some point.” She shrugs, before rubbing the back of her neck and backtracking slightly. “Well—I mean, if you don’t wanna share it, that’s totally cool too. Like, I’m not gonna force you to tell me or whatever—”

“It’s fine,” Kai’Sa says, with a small sigh. “I’m okay to tell you.”

“Oh.” Akali pauses. “Okay. Cool. I just didn’t wanna pressure you or anything.”

“Nah.” Kai’Sa shrugs. “It’s actually kinda funny. You’ll get a kick out of it.” 

Akali raises an eyebrow. “What, does your soulmate call you a bitch or something?” When Kai’Sa doesn’t respond immediately, Akali laughs. “No way. Seriously?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Kai’Sa reaches over for a handful of chips. “Found out the hard way my dad lied to me about what it said when I was little. I don’t blame him—I wouldn’t want to teach my kid a swear word, but man was he not thrilled when I went and asked him why I had “You’re a huge bitch for making me wait this long” plastered on my shoulder. Not exactly the nicest first words.”

“Okay, but that’s actually kinda romantic—y’know, with the whole “I’ve waited my whole life for you” vibe it gives off.” Akali laughs. “If it makes you feel better, mine is a lot worse.”

“Oh?” Kai’Sa pops a chip into her mouth. “What’s yours, then?”

“Well, for one thing, my soulmate gave me a tramp stamp,” Akali says, with a small shrug. “They also threaten to have me “dead on the floor” if they weren’t in such a good mood.”

Kai’Sa pauses. “Seriously?”

“Yup,” Akali confirms, reaching over for the chips herself, and frowning when she comes up empty handed. “Dude, did you finish my chips?”

Kai’Sa gives an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”

Akali huffs. “Anyways, yeah. The full line is—and I quote: “You should learn to watch where you’re going. If I weren’t in such a good mood, you’d be dead on the floor right now.” Not gonna lie, if they’re hot, I wouldn’t mind them killing me.”

Kai’Sa elbows Akali. “I’d mind if you died. Besides, it was probably a figure of speech.”

“Oh,” Akali says, mock gasping and bringing a hand up over her heart. “You’d care if I died? Kai’Sa, I’m touched. Are you saying we’re bros?”

“We’re spending the holidays together watching movies,” Kai’Sa says, with a small, amused huff. “I don’t know, you tell me. Are we bros?”

“Hmm.” Akali brings a hand up to scratch at her chin. “You did finish off my chips, so you’re on thin ice. I’m leaning towards no.”

“I bought an extra bag,” Kai’Sa says, and she almost wants to laugh at how fast Akali perks up.

“We’re bros,” she says, correcting her earlier statement with a confident nod. “So long as you tell me where that bag of chips is, we’re bros.”

Kai’Sa nods towards the pile of school stuff near the door. “Front pocket of my bag.” 

As soon as the words are out of Kai’Sa’s mouth, Akali is already making her way over. Upon finding what she was looking for, she lifts the back into the air with a triumphant “jackpot!”

“Turn the movie back on,” Akali says, taking her seat again. “I wanna see if Harold goes after Jennifer or if he just lets her marry that prick her dad set her up with.”

Kai’Sa smiles. “So you _do_ like Hallmark movies.”

Akali huffs. “I never said that.”

* * *

Ahri gets the woman’s name the second time they meet, a few hundred years later at a trading town on the edge of the desert. 

Evelynn is—to put it bluntly, kind of a huge bitch. Actually, not kind of, she _is_ a huge bitch. It’s a fact that’s proven the third time they meet, when she kills a man right in front of Ahri just to see her reaction. (The city guard wasn’t all too pleased, to say the least.)

She’s a bitch, but once she realizes Ahri doesn’t have any intention on getting in her way, she cools off slightly. As far as standards for friends go, Ahri figures she should probably have higher ones than “doesn’t try to kill me every time we meet anymore,” but hey, beggars can’t be choosers. 

If anyone ever asked, though, they’re apparently not friends. They share dinner and trade travel stories, but no. Not friends. Evelynn, as she insists, does not have those. She also insists she doesn’t believe in soulmates, but Ahri catches her eyes watching her soulmark a bit too closely to not be curious. 

Perhaps Ahri is rubbing off on her. Who knows. Evelynn still kills at least two men every time they see each other, so if she has, it’s not enough to make her reconsider her eating habits. 

“You know, you could have killed your soulmate, at this rate,” Ahri points out, as they share a deer.

Evelynn snorts. “Please. I kill men. I’m sure the world knows I have higher standards than that.”

Ahri raises an eyebrow, and a small smirk makes its way upon her lips. “So you believe in soulmates now?”

“I didn’t say that. Don’t try to play games with me, _fox._ I’m in no mood for your trickery.” Evelynn glares, before sighing. “But... I suppose, something about your insufferable enthusiasm must have rubbed off on me.”

“That’s not a no,” Ahri points out, over a bite of liver. “Why, when we first met, you laughed at the mere idea of having one.”

“I still do.” Evelynn shakes her head. “But I do admit that I find myself… _curious_ , as to what they would be like if I did have one.”

“Ah, of course, of course,” Ahri says, and a smug little grin creeps its way upon her face. “Merely curiosity. I see.” 

It’s something Evelynn must notice, because she scowls. “Repeat that to anyone and I’ll kill you.”

“Who would I have to tell? And who would believe me if I did?” A little grin creeps its way upon her face. “Not to worry, your secret is safe with me.”

Ahri quickly dodges as a living knife thrusts its way into the air where her face had previously been.

“Imply I’m going soft again and I’ll show you just how nice I am.” Evelynn’s smile is all teeth, far too wide to be friendly. 

“My bad. How _dare_ I imply you care about anything. You know, it’d be okay if you did.” Ahri shrugs, before ducking again.

“Get out of my sight before I kill you.”

Ah. There’s the death threats again. It had been a while since the last one, Ahri supposes it must have been overdue. She gets up with a small stretch.

“We’ll finish this chat in a few decades,” Ahri calls, over her shoulder. “Maybe you’ll change your mind on soulmates by then.”

“Not a chance.” Evelynn sneers.

Ahri smiles. “Don’t make bets you can’t win.” She’s gone and out of sight long before claws can make their way to her throat.

* * *

High school, unfortunately, means Kai’Sa has to transfer schools once again. She’d wanted to stay—god knows she doesn’t know how she’s going to adjust to life without Akali as a roommate again—but even if she were able to, Akali wouldn’t be here.

“My Mom’s not asking anymore—I’ve gotta go home and train to take over the family business.” She shrugs, haphazardly shoving some clothes in her bag. “My uncle managed to convince her to back off for a bit, but he couldn’t hold her off forever.”

“I’m sorry,” Kai’Sa says, as she folds some clothes of her own. “I know you said you really didn’t want to be involved in the family business.”

Akali shrugs. “I didn’t, but, to be honest, that was always kind of a pipe dream. My career was already decided by the time I was in diapers.”

“Still.” Kai’Sa sighs. “Doesn’t make it any less of a sucky situation.”

“True,” Akali muses, with an amused huff. “But hey, at least you got into that performing arts academy, yeah? That’s gonna be great.”

“Mmm.” Kai’Sa hums. “It has a lot of great things to offer, but… it doesn’t offer the Akali Jhomen Tethi roommate experience.”

“Careful, dude. You’re gonna make me cry.” Akali sniffs a shirt, as if unsure if it’s dirty or clean, before deeming it clean enough and throwing it in her bag.

“Good,” Kai’Sa says, “because I already know I’m going to when my Dad comes to pick me up. I’m gonna miss you.”

“I’m gonna miss you too, man.” Before Kai’Sa can react, Akali throws her clothes aside and comes in for a hug. “I figured I was gonna hate having a roommate, and I’m not gonna lie, I thought you were a preppy rule-following bitch at first, but damn, if you weren’t actually cool to have around.”

Kai’Sa returns the hug. “I didn’t want a roommate, but now I can’t imagine what it’d be like without one.”

Slowly, they pull apart, and Akali huffs. “You better text me at least once a day.” She pauses. “And you better keep up with my soundcloud, too,” she adds, as an afterthought.

“Of course. I wouldn’t dream of missing a new track,” Kai’Sa agrees. “When you get your big break, I expect front row tickets to your concert.”

Akali smiles. “Front row? Hell no. Kai’Sa, bros get backstage passes, you should know this by now.” 

“Ah. Of course. How could I forget?” Zipping her suitcase shut, Kai’Sa grabs it off the bed and sets it by the door. 

“It’s okay, I know there’s not a lot of room left in your head after remembering all that math.” Akali frowns at the mere mention of the subject. “But—same thing to you, dude. When you end up on Dancing with the Stars or whatever, I want tickets to be in the audience.”

“Of course.” Kai’Sa grabs another, empty bag and sets it on her bed. “Any other requests?”

Akali takes a moment to think. “You better brag about how cool your roommate was when your dad comes to pick you up.”

Kai’Sa smiles. “I don’t think you need to ask for that one. He’s already heard all about you from when I write to him.”

Akali shakes her head. “Don’t care. Do it anyways. Bro code—you gotta brag about me to your parents.”

“In that case, can do.” 

* * *

The first time Ahri finds anything remotely similar to the words on her skin is in Rome.

The symbols aren’t exactly the same, and the words they make up don’t match (nor do they follow the right grammatical structure), but they’re close enough that Ahri gets excited that—maybe, just _maybe_ , she won’t have to wait too much longer.

Rome is beautiful—marble and pillared architecture, and it has no shortage of both people and not. She meets a Vastayan couple at a bar for the inhuman. It’s a pleasant surprise, especially considering most of the ones that are left tend to stick to themselves these days. Even though they seem more avian than canine, the magic they use is the same and they exchange tips and tricks over enchanted alcohol.

She stays in Rome until it falls, and books it before things get too crazy to get out. Evelynn, predictably, must make her way _into_ the chaos right as Ahri makes her way out, because tales of a monster feeding on dying men haunt the streets for years after.

It takes far too much time, and far too much patience for Ahri’s liking, but finally— _finally_ —the words on her hip form into something legible. Something sensible, though, it is not.

 _You could have left the fursuit at home, you know._

Ahri doesn’t know what a fursuit is, but she’s pretty sure she doesn’t own one. She only keeps the things she can carry with her, some chosen knickknacks and a few sets of clothes—none of it is anything that could be classified as a suit.

She’s made so much progress, and yet none at all. With that, comes the realization that she’s going to have to go back to waiting. Fuck.

Taking a seat on soft grass and looking up at the sky, Ahri takes the little purple bracelet she had bought so long ago now and runs it between her fingers.

“You said the world had a plan for me, you old hag,” she grumbles to the empty air, as if the soul of a woman long gone is listening. “I’m still waiting, and looking, but so far it just feels like some sort of cosmic joke.”

She sighs. 

“Looks like I’m gonna have to do it for a bit longer, I think. If you can hear me, maybe tell whoever runs things over in the spirit world or whatever to hurry it up a bit. I’m getting impatient.”

“My, my, gumiho, you really are going senile, aren’t you? Talking to thin air?” 

Ahri doesn’t even need to look over to see who it is. “I’m being sentimental, not senile.” 

Evelynn snorts. “Same thing.” 

Ahri frowns, but doesn’t otherwise dignify that with a response. 

“You said you can read the garbage on your hip now, yes?” Evelynn asks.

“That’s correct.” Ahri nods, slipping the bracelet back on her wrist.

“Wonderful. Read mine.” Evelynn takes a seat next to Ahri, turning so her back is visible.

“I know you well enough to know you won’t leave me alone until I do, so fine.” Dragging her finger along the words as she reads, Ahri laughs. 

Evelynn scowls. “Is something funny? Please, do fill me in.”

“Yes, actually. The words on your back.” Ahri smiles. “They’re quite fitting. “Damn, lady, it was an accident! What crawled up your ass and died today?” has such a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

* * *

Kai’Sa gets a single room—this time, she makes sure to double check. She’s glad for it, too, as the mere idea of having a roommate that isn’t Akali is distinctly unappealing.

Moving day comes and goes, and before she knows it, she falls into her new routine. The biggest adjustment in that regard is that she has to find a new way to spend the time she had used to set aside for movie nights.

One advantage to her new school is its location. It’s smack dab in the middle of the woods, and she doesn’t know whether it’s simply childish nostalgia that makes her explore it, but it doesn’t take long at all for her to find a few creeks with wonderful spots to sit and read at.

Every Friday, weather permitting, she drops her stuff off in her room, grabs a familiar volume of an Audrey Vandlefoot classic, and makes her way over to one of her favorite spots. There’s a large stone outcropping that stands at just the right angle for sunlight to peek through, and it’s close enough to the water to allow the rushing current to lull her into the world contained inside the pages.

Occasionally, she’ll be broken out of her stupor by some of the local wildlife, but for the most part, she is undisturbed, just how she likes it.

But that is not always the case. 

Kai’Sa looks up when the rattling of the pebbles of the creekbed becomes too loud to ignore, and even the sturdy piece of stone she sits on starts to hum with the shaking earth.

Her first instinct is to run. And she does, quickly getting to her feet and snapping her book shut, but it’s not fast enough.

The ground beneath her splits in two, a sea of purple and cold and empty air. Kai’Sa is sucked in before she can even realize what’s happening. She reaches her hand out for something— _anything_ to grab onto, and for a second, manages to latch onto something.

It’s cold and hard under her fingertips, and for a brief moment, Kai’Sa thinks she’s managed to somehow wiggle her way out of this situation, before whatever she had grabbed _moves_ and there’s nothing but pain, white hot and all-consuming. 

Kai’Sa wakes to the dark with a pounding headache and dizzy vision, but manages to make out a faint glow of purple somewhere in front of her. She lifts a hand to reach for it. It moves.

As her vision slowly clears, she comes to the sinking realization that the glowing purple is coming from—no, that can’t be right—her _hand?_ It’s clawed and covered in armor, but when she moves, so does it.

Huh. That’s new.

A glance around clearly shows she is very much not in the forest anymore—but where, exactly, she’s not sure. It’s dark, and silent, and there’s occasional pulses of soft purple light as the walls of whatever cavern she’s in shift. It’s unnervingly similar to what she had imagined the Dark Void to look like, the one Theoden got stuck in for a few chapters in book three. 

Her chest tightens.

But that isn’t real. None of it is. Theoden isn’t real, Evadne isn’t real—they’re all characters in a world written and created by someone to collect royalty checks.

Kai’Sa clenches her hands a few times, and there’s an unnerving clicking sound as the clawed edges of her fingertips hit the hardened surface of her palms.

None of Audrey Vandlefoot’s work was ever supposed to be real, but if this is some sort of prank, it’s far too convincing for comfort. The only way out of the Dark Void, she remembers, was up. The walls look sturdy enough, she figures. What other choice does she have? 

Step by step, she starts the climb.

* * *

Ahri takes a break from soulmate-searching for a while, instead choosing to soul-search a little herself. It’s been years since she’d started looking, and she figures if waiting around really made that much of a difference, she would have already found her soulmate by now.

She tries writing for a bit in the 1980s. It’s easy enough to come up with a good story when she’s lived more than long enough to simply adapt some of her own experiences. It helps that for the most part, most of the supernatural are regarded as fairy tales these days. 

She submits a manuscript to some publishers on the off chance she can make a bit of cash on it, and it doesn’t take long for a few to call her back. It takes some negotiations and some contract work by Evelynn (she had always been better about legal things, than Ahri was, something about knowing your enemy), but she eventually settles on an agreement. Audrey Vandlefoot’s first book quickly hits bookstore shelves, and then the New York Times Bestsellers list shortly after.

By the time her second one comes out, she has a following. By the third, her publisher calls and asks to do book signings. Ahri refuses—she had gone under a pen-name for a reason. Maybe one day, she’ll be comfortable with being a celebrity, but today is not that day—not for these books. If and when she takes center stage, she wants it to be Ahri, not Audrey. 

Needless to say, her publisher isn’t thrilled. They agree to do a giveaway of some signed copies for charity to fans, and a few extras for high paying vips, but nothing in person. Considering how much she’s sure they’re making off of their cut of the story, Ahri considers it to be a rather generous agreement.

Evelynn thinks it’s funny. She doesn’t hesitate to rub in the fact that all her audience probably thinks she’s some old lady who knits. When Ahri points out that the one who knows how to knit between the two of them is not her, Evelynn quickly changes the subject—but not without a good old fashioned threat or two first.

Ahri finishes the series before promptly ending her contract, and Audrey Vandlefoot is retired into the list of names she’s previously gone by, alongside August and Allison and so many others.

She takes a few decades to return to her roots before she decides she wants to try something new. Doing anything these days requires some more work—forged paperwork and passports and id cards—so she meets up with Evelynn to forge a new identity. 

Evelynn has always been good with computers—having kept an eye on them since they were first introduced. They’re far more intricate now than what Ahri had ever remembered, but Eve navigates it with practiced ease.

“First name?” she asks.

“Ahri,” Ahri answers, after taking a moment to think.

Evelynn pauses her typing briefly at the keyboard, face lit by the dim light of the monitor. 

“You’re going to use your actual name?” She asks, raising an eyebrow.

Ahri shrugs. “Why not? It’s been long enough since the last time, hasn’t it?”

Evelynn shrugs. “Your choice.”

Some boxes of hair dye and a quick photo later, Ahri is a fresh high-school graduate with blonde hair and big dreams. Evelynn, ever the overachiever, makes herself valedictorian instead of her. Ahri notes that she uses her real name too.

Ahri learns what a fursuit is the first time Evelynn teaches her to use a search engine. And honestly? In hindsight, the words on her hip make sense.

* * *

By the time Kai’Sa makes it back to her dorm room, it’s long past curfew. Upon checking the time, she realizes she only has about an hour before she needs to get up and get ready for morning practice.

After a while in front of the mirror spent contemplating the reality of what had happened, she comes to the conclusion that—she had picked up _something_ while she was there.

The little scar on her chin from when she had tripped as a child is gone, and if she focuses hard enough, living armor oozes out of her pores over her skin. But she’s alive, and physically unharmed. So she moves on with life.

The next few weeks afterwards are weird—she breaks one of the bars at the studio by accident, eats probably four times her normal calorie intake, and honestly feels a little bit like some fucked-up version of Spiderman, but hey. At least she’s not dead. (Kai’Sa highly suspects that were it not for her new… friend, she very likely would have ended up that way.)

She doesn’t tell her dad about it. Or Akali. Akali’s busy enough these days, between how bitchy her mom has been recently and the part time sushi-job she took to start saving to move out. 

As for Dad… she doesn’t even know how she’d even possibly begin explaining the situation. It’s best just to leave things be. She’ll deal with it herself—Kai’Sa is good at dealing with her problems on her own. 

In the long run, she finds this whole situation really isn’t much of a problem at all. It requires adjustment, yes, but it comes with its perks. She can run faster, jump higher, she doesn’t get out of breath quite as easily, and she won’t lie, it gives her a bit of an edge that allows her to go more out of her comfort zone than usual. And it shows—it doesn’t take long for Kai’Sa to find herself center stage more often than Caroline.

When Caroline graduates, the spot is concretely Kai’Sa’s. Alongside practice, Kai’Sa helps teach some of the freshmen in her free time, and she loves it. There’s something about teaching that just… as Akali would put it, vibes with her.

Truthfully, Kai’Sa hadn’t thought much on what she was going to do after school. She had always figured she’d go for something big, some big part on a stage in L.A. or Paris or New York, but honestly? She’s not sure that’s really her thing. She still wants to do that, yes, but not forever. 

By the time her final day arrives, and Dad comes to help her pack up, she sees some dance competition ads on social media.

Quickly opening her messages and copying the link, she sends it to Akali. 

_Think I can win this?_ she asks, with a smiley face at the end for good measure. 

The response is quick—Kai’Sa knows Akali was already online, considering how she had been ranting on her feed about how Yasuo’s latest track is “hot flaming overrated garbage.”

_Can? Kai’Sa, your dad sent me some clips from your last performance—if you sign up, you’re GOING to win. It’s not an if, dude._

Kai’Sa smiles as she writes back.

_I appreciate your confidence in me. I’ll sign up now._

Kai’Sa does, in fact, win, and she uses the prize money to buy her own studio. Dad buys her a plant as a housewarming gift. She gets an offer for a seasonal residency at the National Ballet mailed to her door shortly after she opens. It’s quickly declined.

A few hours after she puts the response in the mailbox, she gets a phone call setting up lessons with some up-and-coming idol.

* * *

Ahri gets into the music industry half on a whim and half by chance. She’s always been into music—lord knows she’s been playing the piano almost as long as it’s been around, but the industry itself is something new, something exciting.

But it also comes with its downsides. When it came to writing, sure the publisher had power, but it didn’t take long for her to be able to throw around the weight her pen name had. The music industry relies just as much on connections as it does power, so it involves a lot of playing nice, sitting pretty, and smiling for the cameras.

It also involves a ridiculously tight schedule, so when her manager insists on some extra dance lessons, she’s not exactly pleased about it, to say the least.

She’s fifteen minutes late to the appointment. Whether it’s due to traffic (because god knows even after all these years people _still_ haven’t learned to drive in the rain) or out of spite isn’t something she’ll admit, but either way, the woman sitting on a small chair as she walks in the door glances up with a look that is less than pleased. 

She’s good looking, Ahri will admit. Long legs, toned shoulders, tall, black hair up in a ponytail. Unfortunately, the eye candy doesn’t do much to improve her mood. She already knows she’s not going to have much free time after this.

The woman gives Ahri a once over, eyes pausing on her ears and the drenched fur of her tail dripping onto the hardwood. 

“You could have left the fursuit at home, you know.” 

Ahri swears time stops. She doesn’t know whether this is just a normal part of the whole soulmate thing, or the fact that she’s just been waiting for this moment for so _goddamn_ long that her brain shuts off, but her reply slips out without her even thinking about it.

“You’re kind of a huge bitch for making me wait this long.”

The way the woman pauses for a second makes Ahri realize she probably colossally fucked up. Shit, did she put the word bitch somewhere on her skin? Oops.

“My apologies,” she says. “In fairness, you tattooed that I’m a huge bitch on my shoulder.” She gets up and offers her hand. “Hi. I’m Kai’Sa.”

“Hi,” Ahri says, as she takes it. “I’m Ahri.”

There’s a brief moment of awkward silence.

“Um. It’s not a fursuit, by the way,” Ahri says, and she flicks her tail a few times for good measure. Kai’Sa’s eyes follow. Water gets everywhere. 

“I see,” Kai’Sa says. “I don’t suppose you’d mind waiting here while I grab a towel, then? You’re soaking my floors.”

“No—please. That’d be great.” 

Kai’Sa makes her way out of the room, and Ahri takes a moment to look around. On a small table by the door rest a pile of very familiar books.

Ahri reaches for one, before she’s startled by Kai’Sa’s voice.

“Are you a fan of Audrey Vandlefoot?” she asks, as she passes the towel over.

Ahri laughs. “You could say that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Did I really write 12k to make a Wonderwall joke? Perhaps. 
> 
> For snippets, updates on what I'm working on, and a shit ton of art retweets, feel free to check out my [twitter.](https://twitter.com/UmbreonGurl)


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